Shots in Paradise
by WargishBoromirFan
Summary: Even in Paradise, some things never change for Quent Yaiden: the gun weighs heavy against his heart, the warm vodka burns on the way down, and two orphaned wolves follow at the heels of their Pops. Also features Hubb, Cher, Blue, Toboe, and Hige.
1. Snow White, Rose Red Riding Hood

A/N: I own nothing. Originally, I'd intended to use this particular oneshot as a prologue to "Paradise Blues," the Novel of Doom that follows from "Shots in Paradise" and "Tougher than Leather," but then the latest bit I wrote for "Shots" demanded a reference to the fairytale version of how Darcia would like to be remembered in Paradise. Well, cross-reference for the win?

* * *

It had not been my favorite bedtime story, (that honor went firmly to "The Firebird," as it had been Bruce's favorite, too,) but I had heard the tale of "The Moonflower Maiden" often enough that I could still remember my father's way of telling it:

"Now, the way my mama always told it," Pops said, "There was once a beautiful young girl whose lightest touch could ease the greatest hurts. Her song would give sweet dreams to the guiltiest conscience. She was so fair and fragile that her father, a powerful lord who loved her dearly, declared that she should only walk upon flower petals, and go outside only under the moonlight, so that the sun should not mar her snow white skin. He even created a rose red cloak for her, so that the moon's light would not be too harsh, either.

"One night, a cunning and devious evil wolf saw the pale skinned girl in the red hood out in her garden of night flowers, heard her sing to the full moon, and was determined to have her for himself. He took on the form of a young man and snuck his way into the great lord's household, making his way to the moonflower maiden. Once he was in her garden, the wolf told her that he loved her and wished to take her away to his kingdom far away. And because the girl was young and inexperienced with the ways of wolves and men, she went along with the wolf in prince's clothing.

"Now, when her father the great lord came down to the garden and found her missing, he swore vengeance upon that wolf and all of the wolf's family. He would do anything to rescue his fair daughter, and he had to do it quickly, for if she spent a month under the sun, the moonflower maiden would die from its blinding light and heat.

"Luckily for the lord, an owl flying through the gardens had seen the wolf steal away the moonflower maiden. The owl had pulled at her by the red cloak, but the girl was so blinded by the wolf that she would not come back to her garden with the good owl. The owl guided the lord through a dark forest, where there was nothing living, save for gigantic beetles and man-eating plants. The lord made his way through dark caverns and burning deserts, where wild men lived and the scrub brushes would trap you in dreams and drink up your blood. But the lord was clever and canny, and he fought off man, beast, and plant alike.

"Finally, he found his daughter high in the snowy mountains. The wolf had called forth all his henchmen in order to help corral the moonflower maiden toward their home in the deepest ravine of the tallest mountain in all the world. She was weak from the sunlight, but the flowers loved her so that they grew before her bare feet, so that even on this deadly journey, she could walk upon soft petals. The noble lord fought off the wolf and his pack of jackals, but the witch who controlled them from a distance had been promised the moonflower maiden as a servant, and this witch would not be quickly denied. Just when the lord thought he had won his fair little daughter back, the witch spirited the moonflower maiden away and placed a terrible curse upon her father the lord, so that he would become a wolf like the one he hated so.

"The lord was brave and hardy, and he would not allow his daughter to be snatched away a second time. He climbed the tallest mountain, where the night sky is ever glittering with rainbows. He stepped into the deepest ravine, where the roots of the tree of all seeds burrow into the earth. He came to the witch's city, and killed her when she refused to take away his curse. Then, thirty days after his fair daughter, the flowermoon maiden, had been stolen, the lord embraced her once more.

"It was then that the sun rose above the horizon, and the moonflower maiden withered into ashes. Her father was so distraught with grief that he tore down the tree of all seeds itself, which might very well mean the end of the world for people like you and me. But because the moonflower maiden loved the world as well as it loved her, her ashes blew into the crevice where the tree of all seeds once grew and from them grew a new tree. From her sacrifice, the world was able to start again." I quickly learned when Pops was reading; no matter what he might say about his mama, my father never used that sort of vocabulary if he could help it.

"Poppa, could I save the world like the moonflower maiden?" I had asked as a child.

"Sure," he had replied, tucking my dark, messy pigtails behind my ears. "Somebody's got to do it every now and then. Might as well be us."

I looked out the window of my too-quiet bedroom. "Does that mean that I have to walk only in moonlight?"

"Blue," Pops said, turning me to face him. "You walk around in whatever you damn well please, and you tell anyone who tells you otherwise to go jump off the tallest mountain in the world."

"Can I go walking in the moonlight tonight? I don't see any wolves out, and I won't sing to attract them," I promised quickly.

"Even if there were wolves about, I think you and I would quickly be teaching them what happens when they try to steal away my pretty little girl," Pops said, looking out the window at the half-full moon as well. "But right now, you need your beauty sleep, little lady."

"But Poppa…" I whined, twisting my fingers in the quilt. It still smelled a little like ash, but it was warm.

"You can't kick ass if you don't get any sleep," Pops said. He had never really attempted to curb his curses around me. It embarrassed me at school sometimes, when the teachers punished me for repeating what Pops had taught me, but it had always made me feel tough and grown up, like Pops trusted me to be big enough to hear exactly what he wanted to say.

"All right then," I agreed. "I don't want any witches sneaking up and turning my poppa into a wolf."

"And I don't want any wolves stealing you." My father placed a kiss on my cheek, which I returned, feeling the stubble rough upon his face. "Good night, baby Blue. I love you."

"I love you, too, Poppa," I said, waiting for the light to go out. I never did like nightlights. The shadows they cast tended to shift and gutter, like memories of a fire.


	2. Unnatural Son

A/N: Not my characters. This collection of interrelated one-shots will have a sister volume up very shortly, featuring more of Tsume and his views on paradise, whereas this one is for Quent, Blue, Hige, Hubb, and Cher. There's also a longer novel in the works for what happened to Kiba, Cheza, and Darcia that will feature the full cast. Toboe, of course, gets into everything...

* * *

"You want to explain what's going on here, Lebowski?" the chief of police asked the young detective seated uncomfortably in front of his desk. 

Hubb pointed at the glowering man seated next to him. "Ask Quent. He was the first on the crime scene."

The chief of the Freeze City Police Department raised an eyebrow at the heavyset mercenary attired in a rumpled trenchcoat, a privately purchased flak jacket, and an old fashioned army shirt. "Care to enlighten us, Mr. Yaiden?"

"Boy doesn't have anywhere to go. I offered my place. Seems like a simple enough thing to me, but obviously some of your boys don't see it that way," the mercenary said, shrugging. The clink of handcuffs seemed too loud in the small, cheerless interrogation room.

"You do understand that releasing a potential murder witness into the hands of a vigilante is highly irregular in regard to our normal policy and procedures," the chief pointed out.

"I ain't no vigilante," Quentin Yaiden said, raising a corner of his upper lip. "Vigilantes work for free. And I was honorably discharged from active service fifteen years ago and I've never had one of your city's badges, so don't give me that 'policy and procedures' bullshit. The only policy I'm looking to follow here is that old chestnut of mine that says that you don't put a five year old who's done nothing wrong in a jail cell."

"Hey, we do have interrogation rooms and the bullpen. We wouldn't throw him in with the convicts," Hubb tried to reason with the bearishly built man, but Yaiden just turned his glare on the young detective.

"Because that sounds so much better than a stable home for a terrified kid." Lebowski shrugged helplessly under the force of the elder man's angry sarcasm. Both of them quite pointedly avoided looking around the old room, bare save for four chairs, a square nonstick table that had been bolted to the floor, and obvious spots where the off-yellow walls had been repainted.

"I'd like to question him a little more thoroughly before we make any sweeping statements about what the witness may or may not have done," the police chief said, making a note on the paper before him.

Yaiden's jaw dropped in outraged surprise. "Didn't you see the wounds on that body? Those were bite marks, and from bigger teeth than a little boy's, I'd wager."

"We still need to know if the boy knows anything about whatever attacked his grandmother," Detective Hubb Lebowski said, appearing somewhat shaken by the cool turn of his superior's phrase, as well. "We're not putting him on trial, Quent, just asking some questions."

"You don't put a man in jail without giving him a trial. Even the nobles know better than to try that. Might not be a fair trial, but you put on the show, at least," the mercenary muttered. "I've asked him some questions," Yaiden continued in a louder and clearer voice when Hubb shook his head and turned his eyes quickly to his boss. "I'm no lawyer or inspector, but I ain't stupid. I've been around long enough to know what you guys want to hear. The kid just shook me off and kept calling for his granny. He won't be able to answer any of you any better while he's still in shock, and it won't calm him down if you put him in the slammer a few nights before you get around to interviewing him. Let him come home and settle down a little. You know I've already been cleared by the foster folks. Those bastards grilled me and Blue harder after the fire than the police did," Quent reminisced with grudging respect in his gravelly voice.

"You weren't at fault. It was plain as day," Hubb said quickly, touching a hand to the older man's blocky shoulder.

"Neither is the kid. He's lost his family twice now. Don't put him through this shit when there's someplace that would welcome him," Quent Yaiden's voice softened on the last part of the sentence.

"Would you bring him in for questioning?" the chief asked.

"I don't see what good it would do you, but sure. You'd probably have better luck checking for a pit bull or something kept illegally in the apartment complex starting now instead of waiting until the boy can tell you about it. It probably won't be hanging around there for much longer, but you'd have more luck finding it than a little kid that can leave bite marks like that," Quent suggested, appearing much more willing to help now that he had a chance to get the boy away from the police station.

"If by some chance the parents are alive and we are able to locate them, would you be willing to release the boy into their custody?" the police chief continued remorselessly.

Quent Yaiden looked him unblinkingly in the eyes. "That depends upon the parents."

The chief of police nodded, as if he had been expecting this answer. "And you feel yourself capable of caring for the boy as he is? You know that he is not your natural son?"

"It doesn't get much further from natural than that old lady's death…" Quent muttered, looking at something beyond the cramped interrogation room. "I'm not crazy, chief. I can tell the difference between Bruce and Toboe."

"We will contact the fostering agency and have them send the agent to your place instead, then, Mr. Yaiden." The chief of police nodded to his subordinate, and Detective Lebowski removed the handcuffs. Quent nodded his thanks, massaging his wrists as he turned to the door. As he pushed it open, the bear-like man revealed a short, skinny young boy with rust brown hair sticking out in every direction for a good two or three inches from his scalp. Bright, light brown eyes yet too large for the heart shaped face looked up at the old mercenary in wonderment and Quent knelt carefully before the boy to return the bear hug that had wrapped around his knee.

The dog was never found. Eventually, investigators ruled the death accidental.


	3. Pop's Girl

A/N: I own nothing.

* * *

I wasn't quite sure what to make of the pallid little boy clinging tightly to the arm wrapped around him. At twelve, I still appreciated the cuteness of babies in an abstract way, but preferred playmates closer to my own age or older to looking after younger ones. The small boy wasn't exactly a baby, either, and those big brown eyes of his were unnerving when he wouldn't speak. Those eyes were too old, too wide, and too unblinking for his babyish face. "What's your name?" I asked, noting the way my father clung right back with more than a hint of jealousy. He didn't answer; he just reached around Pop's arm to touch the oversized bracelets on his pale, bony right wrist. "What's he doing here, Pops?" 

"This is Toboe, Blue," my father said. He pulled a hand out of the little boy's grip and placed it on my back. "He's going to be staying with us a while."

Toboe transferred his grip to my father's flak jacket. "I want Granny," the little boy whispered. He sounded hoarse from crying. I put a hand on my father's back, trying to show I cared, even if I didn't quite understand.

"Hey, Toboe," I said. "Don't worry; Pops and I'll look after you until your Granny can come pick you up." Pops shook his head, warning me not to say anymore. I recognized that expression. It was the same one he'd worn when I'd started to ask about the details of the fire.

Having missed Pop's expression, much less its meaning, Toboe turned wary, weary light brown eyes upon me. "Promise?"

"We promise. For as long as you need us to, we'll be here," Pops said, pulling both of us close. Toboe nodded seriously and let the lids come down over those eyes. His breathing slowed until it was in time with the rise and fall of my father's chest. "Thanks, baby Blue."

I looked down at my feet. "I'm not a baby anymore, Pops."

"No, but you're still my girl. I wouldn't go through the trouble of dealing with those idiots from foster care for just anybody, you know." My father walked towards the couch, and reluctant to let go, I followed at his side, studying the sleeping face of the boy in his arms. He wasn't my brother, a piece of my mind thought rebelliously, but maybe we could find a place for him around here. Pops liked him, and that was enough for me to give him a chance.


	4. The Brother's Tale

A/N: I own nada.

* * *

"What's the matter with you, kid?" I asked.

He turned to look at me guiltily. I hated to see that kicked puppy face, but at least he'd stopped crashing about. "What? Did I do something bad?"

"No," I said, trying to wave his hurt away. As much of a pain as having an overenthusiastic little boy around could be, I had to admit that I preferred to see him smile. "It's just - can you keep quiet for awhile while I'm reading?"

"Sure, Blue," he said, backing away from the door. "I'll let you get back to it, then."

"Thanks," I grumbled, shutting the door connecting our bedrooms once more. Why did they have to be so damn thin? I flopped back down, flipping in search of my lost page, but it had been entirely too hard to remember the plot with all that ruckus coming from the next room.

I tried starting over from the beginning of the chapter, but I still couldn't concentrate. Pops was out, Toboe was as quiet as he ever was, and … I just couldn't bring myself to care right now. Usually, I loved mysteries and adventure stories, tales of wonders and spectacle from beyond the confines of our domed northern city, but there was just a bit too much drama here at home for me to give the book my full attention. The house may have been quiet, but there was still a sense of tension in the air, and it seemed to be coming entirely from the next room. I sighed, put the book back down, and knocked on the door. Toboe shyly peeked his head around, but I wasn't about to let him whimper on me yet. "So what's all the fuss about, runt?"

He paused another minute, trying to insure that it was safe to talk to me. "Well, her name's Leara, and she's really sweet and cute and she offered to share her lunch with me today at school…" I settled against the thin doorjamb, already captured by my brother's tale.


	5. There Will Be Birds

A/N: I don't even own the cats, although I look after their inspirations often enough.

* * *

"Lebowski! I thought I'd heard sneezing out here!" The old man lifted a hand in greeting, walking over with his half-grown children in tow. 

"Hey, Quent," Hubb said, wiping his nose with a handkerchief before waving back. "I see you brought your kids. Policemen's Ball isn't too boring for you, I hope," he added to the youngsters.

"No, it's not too bad. Some of the officers have kids my age. Looks like allergy season is upon us, though," the boy offered sympathetically.

"I'm afraid every season is allergy season for me," Hubb said. He felt another sniffle coming on, as if he'd walked face first into a wall of animal dander. Considering the short black and orange hairs clinging to the old mercenary's shirt, he might as well have just done the next best thing. He liked the Yaidens, but Hubb despised their cats. Shu never seemed to understand the origin of his name, and the orange one… Git fit the cat perfectly. Lebowski had seen the little devil try to eat his wife's birds. "I'm prepared for it, though." He pulled the handkerchief back out and sneezed again.

"Gesundheit," the boy said, half a second before his darker elder sister.

"Thanks," Hubb said, trying to siphon out the cat hair through the cloth. "Didn't realize you'd be attending, Quent."

The elder man shrugged. "I put my donation in the hat, same as everyone else. Never hurts to scratch the back of the hand that's scratchin' mine every now and then."

"I'm afraid I don't have any leads for you right now," Detective Hubb Lebowski warned him.

"But when you do, you'll think of us, I'm certain," Quent's daughter said firmly. The girl was following her old man into business, at least until they'd saved up enough to get her through the police academy. Hubb had offered to finance her training himself; the girl was too good a tracker to let her get away; but the Yaidens were a proud bunch, and stubborn to boot. About all they'd accept were whatever contracts for running down bail jumpers, known but elusive robbers, and second class gangsters that Hubb could float their way. Back before his girl had joined him in the field, Quent had assisted with some of the higher profile cases, too, but Hubb couldn't blame the older man for sticking to the safer beats when the rookie mercenary he was training happened to also be Quent's only daughter. And the two elder Yaidens certainly lightened Hubb's caseload, so Detective Lebowski was happy to continue with their arrangement. Every day she was out there, the dark young woman was learning the practical side of police work, getting cash towards her education, and making Freeze City a little safer place. Hubb had trouble thinking of a better way to earn one's way through school.

"Hey, the competition has a lot to catch up with when your dad's got a smart, pretty girl like you to act as public relations," Hubb said, lowering the handkerchief long enough to tip his hat to her. That was probably a mistake.

"Bless you," the boy told him.

"Thanks." Hubb pulled out a second handkerchief, putting away the used one as soon as he had the new one to his mouth. "So, how about you, sport? Planning on following the rest of us into fighting crime?" he asked the boy.

"I don't know," the youngster said, running a hand through his longish, coppery brown hair. "I've started taking in calls on weekends and arranging appointments and doing the books and so forth for Pops. It's okay, but I think I'd rather do something with animals when I grow up."

Hubb smiled behind his handkerchief. "Always good to hear. You know, if Quent will let you take an assignment by yourself, Cher and I could probably use somebody to look after our birds while we're on vacation."

"Birds?" the boy repeated, an excited grin widening his eyes and mouth. "Birds are amazing. What kind do you have?"

"Pigeons, mostly, although we get a few wild visitors of all sorts in the spring and fall," Hubb informed him. "They're one of the few animals that don't make these terrible allergies of mine act up, strangely enough."

"That's good," the boy said, glancing at his father and sister to try to gauge their reactions. "I have to admit, though: I don't know a whole lot about taking care of birds."

"It's okay," Hubb said. "I'm sure Cher would be happy to teach you." Cher had been the one who convinced him to stand around them long enough to even test his buggy, overactive immune system. When the bird perched and bobbed on his arm without being shaken off by a sudden sneeze, or even disturbed by so much as a sniffle, it had seemed a new miracle to him. Hubb had scared the bird off when he threw those same arms around his Cher, earning him a present upon his shoulder for his trouble, but he hadn't cared, and that day, neither had she.

"How is your wife, Lebowski? Did she make the ball?" Quent asked, nodding slowly in response to the unspoken question in his son's eyes.

"No; she couldn't come. She's - she's doing okay," Hubb replied, looking at the ground. "There's some new big shot project at the laboratory, and my Cher's in charge of it."

"Congratulations. You must be very proud of her," Quent's daughter said.

"Yeah, we're both proud of it. It does keep her busy, though," Hubb said, shrugging.

"Nothing wrong in following what you're passionate about," the boy said.

"No," Hubb agreed. "It's probably a good thing." After all, that's what Hubb was doing… mostly. Compared to Cher, the small thrills of the rainy beat and the paperwork trails that inevitably followed paled in comparison. Hubb Lebowski liked his job, but there were things he would rather be pursuing than desperate criminals. There were other goals on his mind, other people he wanted to find.

Hubb reconsidered the three standing before him and felt a twinge of envy tug at his mouth like a half-prevented sneeze. Quent's wife and firstborn son were long dead. The two living children were not Yaiden's by blood. But Blue and Toboe were standing at Quent's side, as loyal to their adoptive father as to anything else in their lives.

Hubb and Cher still had time for children. Someday, perhaps, they would find some balance between work and home that they could both be at peace with. It wasn't that Hubb Lebowski was unhappy about his wife's enthusiasm for her new pet project by any means; it was simply that he was jealous. He was jealous of Quent Yaiden's tight-knit family. Hubb was jealous of this girl, who knew what she wanted in this world and how to go about getting it on her own terms. He was jealous of the boy, petted and protected by his elders and well aware that the mind-numbing ledgers were mere busywork - a chore done to earn a bit of pocket money, to be set aside at the end of the spring with classes and hay fever and the girl he liked too much to ignore but was too afraid and clumsy to talk to. In summer, the boy knows, Hubb was sure, that there will be birds.

Hubb Lebowski stood in the garden before the civic center in his second-best uniform, breathing through a handkerchief and listening to the susurrus of distant conversations. Within the building, he could hear snippets of music deeply unlike anything that would be blasting by him on a beat. Before him, the Yaiden team offered their good wishes and moved on, Quent directing them in simple, economical movements, his daughter loping at his heel, and the youngest racing about the pair like a puppy let off the short leash, greeting everyone in his path with all the warmth within him. After all, the boy had been promised birds.

Hubb looked up at the sky and wondered if a certain bird would ever return to him. He knew she was flying free, but he missed her smell. It was sweeter than cat hair.


	6. Let's Meet Again

A/N: I don't even own the potential Roomie From Hell. Those who read Campos's webcomic know why he'd get the recommendation.

Thanks again to the reviewers! As to your question, Aly, I don't know about reruns, but you won't find any new episodes on TV.

* * *

"Doctor D?" The sandy-haired young man's head shot up as if to get a better look. "No way. They told me that Jaguara had all the best people, but I never thought I'd see Doctor Degre again." The intern rose from the microscope bench with hands outstretched.

Delicately, Cher caught the left one, insuring that her ring finger was completely visible. "It's Dr. Lebowski, now."

The young man offered her hand a good squeeze and a quick single pump, scratching the back of his head with his right. "Oh. Er, congrats, Doc. It seems like I was in your bio-chem lab just yesterday. When did you have the time to find yourself a husband?"

"Well, it's been a couple years since I was a Teaching Assistant," Cher said. It was hard not to smile at the young man's disarming expression.

"Not that long," the round-faced intern argued gently. "You were there my sophomore year, and that was only five years ago, now."

"And you've been out of school how long?" she asked mock-seriously.

"One year," he replied with a self-effacing shrug. "I had to take a victory lap to catch up on a couple requirements. I didn't quite get that A in Organic my folks wanted, but a pass is a pass."

Cher wracked her brain, but try as she might, she could not remember seeing this young man before, and as personable as he was, she felt she ought to remember him from class. "Obviously it was good enough to get you into Lady Jaguara's labs."

"Only as an intern, but I certainly won't mind working with you again, Doctor De - Lebowski." He corrected himself.

Cher let her smile blossom freely. She really should remember his name, but the young man seemed like he would be a good addition to her team in any case. Oh, well. Memory lapses were at least good in one way: getting to know someone new was half the fun, and she would be getting that enjoyment twice. "It's my pleasure," she replied. "So, have they showed you around the lab yet?"

"A little bit. This place is certainly bigger than the university labs, huh?" Beyond the bench, there were several examination tables, the door to a temperature-controlled greenhouse, another leading into a spacious, high-ceilinged, albeit currently rather dark and empty testing room, and all the latest health and science tools Lady Jaguara could get her hands on.

"You get used to it, eventually. Once we're able to start divvying up the tasks, everybody ought to have their own small area, too." Cher said, walking towards the greenhouse.

"It seems like a pretty ambitious setup," the intern replied, trailing after her and gazing in wonderment at the walls. "All this stuff, and the greatest folks in genetic engineering and microbiology and botany and biochemistry gathered up to be let loose on a single project. Do you know what it is that Jaguara's searching for?"

"Whatever it is, I'm sure she'll find it," Cher Lebowski said, touching one of the readout monitors. "I've just gotten an assignment to figure out the genetic code of _Datura hanabito,_and then the bioengineers take over from there."

"Aw, you can't fool me, Doc. They told me you're in charge of this zoo. Surely Jaguara's told you a little more than that," the younger scientist prodded her.

"She's told me not to encourage questions for some time yet. The lady is trying to keep this project under wraps before some other noble tries to steal us away." Cher wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. There was personal glory to consider, certainly, but most "mystery research" was kept quiet because the methods were more concerned with the advancement of the whole of mankind rather than individual rights. Cher wouldn't let that happen in her part of the lab, but even as the chief project director, she couldn't monitor all these people all at once. Well, if most of her underlings were like this intern, she shouldn't have to worry too much.

"Hey, a little bit of competition for the brilliant minds of Freeze City won't kill anybody," the young man said, puffing out his chest a little.

"Hopefully not, but Lady Jaguara isn't one to cross, so I wouldn't say that in front of her," Cher warned him. The noblewoman was dangerous, and angering her could cost them more than their jobs on this project. "So, what's your specialty for this project? I haven't gotten a master list of all our staff yet."

"For this project, I'm a _Geomys_, though I usually specialize in toxicology. That's what I studied, anyway," the intern said, his fingers digging awkwardly at the wavy hair curling behind his ear again. "I'm Hige, by the way," he said, finally offering her an out for her obvious memory lapse.

"Well, whether you work as a gofer or a canary in this coal mine, it'll be good to have you with us, Hige," Cher said, opening the door to the darkened, cavernous testing facility. "Project Moonflower could use all the brilliant minds it can get."

"And hopefully a few dogsbodies as well." Hige added, slowing at the doorway in order to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. As of now, only a few extra pots and a stack of fertilizer rested against the back wall, but there were already designs being laid for something bigger, something that could change this empty storeroom into a grand display of science's mastery.

What bothered Cher about the design were not so much the arguments over where the environmental sensors ought to go or whether the large Plexiglas display would be strong and transparent enough for artificially controlled light to get through. It was the positioning of three large, strong chains within the clear chamber and the slender cuffs at the end, just large enough to fit around a thin human's throat and wrists.

"Er, speaking of places for me, you wouldn't happen to know about any cheap apartments in this area, do you? The old Nissan is fairly reliable, but it's a pain having to get it halfway across the city every morning and I don't do subways." It sounded as if there was a story behind that refusal.

"Nothing that is worth living in. There's one fairly nice section west of here, but it's awfully expensive on an intern's salary." Cher paused for a moment, her husband's face flitting randomly across her mind as she saw disappointment lower the intern's features. "You know, my husband has a friend with a couple kids around your age, I think. The boy might be talked into splitting the rent. Let me see if I can't find you his address after work."

"Thanks, Doc," Hige said, perhaps a little too quickly. Cher realized only as she boarded the subway late that night that the number she had written down for the friendly young intern had been the Yaidens', not the Pepitones'. While Yaiden, too, had a son, the boy was a bit young to be looking for his own place. Well, she supposed, she could correct the error tomorrow.


	7. A Familiar Face

A/N: I own nothing but the Waning Moon in its various incarnations; the Wolf's Rain cast belongs to Bones; Roger and all other references to College Roomies From Hell! belong to Marzita Campos.

* * *

"Er, hi, is Roger in?" the young man at the door asked, his fist still raised as if to knock upon empty air. "'Cause if he isn't I can come back later, but I was going to invite him down to the café on the corner to discuss the living situation, and you know, I think I'd almost rather go with you…" The sandy-brown haired man turned his upraised hand to his face, as if trying to physically cut off the nervous flow of words. 

I knew I had never seen him before, but he reminded me of someone that I used to know. Bruce, I decided. He looked like our Bruce when he closed those big brown eyes of his. Maybe that was why I refrained from slamming the door in his face and simply said "There's no Roger living here."

"I'm sorry to bother you then, ma'am," he said sheepishly, scratching at his golden-brown hair. "I must have read the address wrong. You wouldn't happen to know where the Pepitones live, would you?"

"Not off the top of my head, but let's take a look at your directions and see if we can't figure out how to correct them for you," I offered, opening the door a little further. Toboe was at school and Pops was out on an assignment that he insisted I wasn't ready to handle yet, but I wasn't too worried. This poor guy was lost, but he didn't seem pushy about finding his way to anywhere he shouldn't be. Besides, he was kind of cute when he was flustered…

"Thanks," he said, smiling as he fumbled for something in his pocket. I kept my left hand free, ready to shake the switchblade hidden in my sleeve loose if he pulled out something more dangerous than paper. He didn't seem like the type, but it never hurt to be prepared. "Here we are," he said, passing me a crumpled sheet with the crest of the House of Jaguara at the top.

"Hm," I said, looking over it carefully. The handwriting was clear enough, but the apartment address and number were ours, not this Roger Pepitone's. "Looks like you just got bad directions, is all. If he lived here, he and his folks moved out years ago."

"Either that, or really good ones. Can I get you a coffee or something to make up for your trouble?" he asked.

"The directions are no problem, but I might take you up on that coffee if you'll tell me something in return," I said, smiling.

"Oh?" Those eyes… Those were certainly not Bruce's, but I'd seen them somewhere before, too.

"What's your name?" I asked, stepping out into the hallway.

"Oh," he said, looking as if he had just realized that he'd never mentioned it. "Hige, Hige Wolfe. You know, it's funny, but do you believe in reincarnation? Because I feel like I've met you somewhere before, pretty blue eyes…"

"Just Blue," I said, clasping his hand. "Why don't you tell me a little more about this theory?"

Waning Moon Café provided Freeze City with the worst coffee I've ever tasted, but I've learned to love the little place, anyway.


	8. Always Right

A/N: Not my characters. This is where "Shots in Paradise" and "Tougher Than Leather" start to cross over. There's one more really big "Shot" coming, but between the time setting and the fact that I haven't finished the chapter yet, it will not be uploaded until long after "Leather" reaches at least a dozen chapters. After that, there's much more of Blue, Hige, and Quent coming in "Paradise Blues," the sequel that's now in the works, including the rediscovery of certain wolf forms.

Warning: It's a fic, not a sermon. I wouldn't trust the narrator further than I could throw her, myself.

* * *

"Blue? When you're dating somebody, the girl is always right, right?" my brother asked me. Pops might have said something boiling down to this to anyone I dated in high school, but I didn't believe it and I had never thought that Toboe did, either. What had brought this on?

I looked at him more closely, setting aside my book. Was that a black eye beginning to darken Toboe's face? "Well… not always, but it's nice if you can agree on things with the person you like."

"So why did Leara punch me?" Toboe said, utterly defeated. I put a hand to his back, waiting for him to continue. "Like, if you said Victor Thurman was the hottest movie star around, you'd like it if your boyfriend thought he was hot too, right? I mean, just because I'm a guy doesn't mean I can't appreciate good looks, whether it's a guy or a girl. What someone is doesn't make them any more or less beautiful, right?" Those light brown eyes stared up at me in honest confusion.

Oh.

"I guess you're right," I offered him awkwardly. I wasn't too good at the whole comforting speech spiel that was supposedly part of the natural feminine makeup. I could listen and hug him and sympathize with him and tell him that everything would be okay, but beyond that, - well, Toboe had always been better at putting his feelings into words. He's better at putting _my_ feelings into words, half the time. "Some people just don't understand that, though."

Toboe looked up at me shyly though his swelling eyelids. "Do you think that Leara might? Someday?"

"Maybe someday," I offered him. "But by that point, she'll probably have more competition for your affections that some movie-star crush." I tousled his hair. "What do you say we get some ice on that eye?"

"Blue!" my brother complained, trying to straighten his long reddish-brown hair. His tone was a little annoyed, but there was a smile revealed once he had pushed it back out of his face. "That would be good. I think I'll go for a walk later. It's supposed to be a full moon tonight."

"Just be careful. There could be wolves out," I teased him.

"I'm not afraid of fairytales, Blue." Good. He deserved one.


	9. Not a Threat, it's a Promise

A/N: Not mine. I wanted to get the whole group together for one final Shot before Paradise Blues, and they naturally scattered like cats. Who says I can't write long bits?

* * *

Hige had dug out his old interview wear, praying that it still fit him well enough. It wasn't that he was afraid it would be too small - if anything, he'd lost a few pounds since meeting Blue, - but he couldn't afford to look like a complete schlub, either. Blue had insisted that her father and brother weren't all that frightening, but Doctor Lebowski knew the family, as well. It wasn't that Hige Wolfe trusted his mentor more than his girlfriend, but he figured that the woman he still thought of as Doctor D. could offer him a slightly more scientific and unbiased opinion. 

Doctor Lebowski had an opinion on her husband's friend, certainly. She didn't hate the man, but she'd warned her intern to protect his head and be ready to run during their lunch hour, (in the lab of course; Doctor D. was loathe to leave her experiments,) and that was even before Hige had mentioned he was dating Quent's daughter. "Avoid any conversations concerning alcohol, weaponry, his job, fire, wolves, and vodka in any context and it should go just fine," Cher Lebowski had offered dryly. "Hopefully."

"Gee, is that all?" Hige said, scratching the back of his head.

"Well, you may get the rants on Ockham's Fifth Division and how useless the dome is anyway, so no sense in trying to stave off the inevitable," Doctor Degre-Lebowski said, looking over the printouts. Hige hardly ever checked more than the obligatory number of base pairs; the technology had been in place for over a hundred and fifty years, but his boss loved to have a hand in every part of the process. Hige admired her resolve, but sometimes he had to wonder when Cher Lebowski ever got any sleep.

Even their "lunch break" today had involved a large stack of papers placed on an empty lab table between Hige's paper sack and Dr. Lebowski's bagel, and Hige was pretty certain that she still hadn't returned home, even as the afternoon slipped into evening now. At least the senior doctors got to wear something a little more comfortable than those white scrub uniform jumpsuits for their trouble.

Or monkeysuits, Hige supposed, trying to straighten his collar. He had forgotten how much starch he had used on the thing. It had been sitting in the back of his closet for too long, he decided. Provided he survived the introduction to her family, Hige was going to have to take his girlfriend someplace nice more often. Even so, the tawny-haired man pulled out his favorite old hoodie to throw in the back of the car as well. Life was too short to miss out on whatever comfort you could find.

Hige crossed the street and worked his way over to the parking garage, his hoodie wrapped around the wine bottle and another small, important - although potentially dangerous - item stuck deeply into his pants pocket after he'd checked it for holes. With a long, sputtering grumble, the Nissan puttered to life and began to work its way through the congested roadways of Freeze City. Hige had been to this destination often enough that he wasn't worried about getting lost, but he would hate it if traffic made him too late. This was going to go like a dream.

"It's open," a gravelly voice called when Hige knocked on the apartment door. Hige heard something metallic clicking into place, but it didn't sound like the locks on the apartment.

Slowly, Hige pulled the door open. "I mean really, Pops, isn't that a little cliché? You're going to embarrass her to death -" The boy cut himself off mid-sentence, squeaking slightly as the knob turned. "Hi, I'm Toboe, Blue's brother. You must be Hige. She's told us so much about you." The lightly built youngster stepped directly in front of Hige and took his hand, cutting off a direct view of Quent Yaiden. The boy barely looked a thing like his sister, but she had told Hige that she'd been adopted. It had always seemed rather strange to Hige that he had seen no family portraits in the living room of Blue's home, but maybe they just didn't want to bring up any painful memories for her. That didn't make sense though; Blue kept several pictures of them in her wallet and was hardly ashamed of her "chosen" family, as she seemed to think of her father and brother, even if some of their friends were.

"Nice to meet you, Toboe." The tawny-haired man offered him an only slightly worried smile and squeezed the scrawny boy's hand. "Polishing the shotgun, sir?" Hige asked, peering over the redhead's shoulder.

"SKS-9 revolving hunting rifle," Quent Yaiden corrected him. "Less stopping power, but it's got a longer range and it's very accurate." Hige nodded as if any of the words meant anything to him. "You ever go shooting, boy?"

"I can't say that I have," the young man said, following Toboe's unspoken invitation to sit down. Hige's parents had always been more than a little fearful about guns.

"Well, that settles it," Quent said, snapping the loaded wheel of bullets back into place. "The kids and I'll have to take you sometime." The blocky, gray-haired man grunted and stood, tucking his rifle beneath his trenchcoat. Hige hadn't quite realized how tall the elder man was when Yaiden had been bent over his gun. "Why not today, since you're over here anyway? If you can learn to shoot in that, you could probably shoot in just about anything."

"Pops, we've got dinner reservations and you probably need to clean up first," Toboe reminded his father.

"Eh, we got plenty of time," Quent said. He had slipped the loaded gun into a holster beneath his long plain brown coat. It disturbed Hige to see how well it slid into the older man's profile; a bit of extra tension in the blocky left shoulder was the only tell that the weapon existed. "Blue?" the elder Yaiden opened a door and yelled toward the rear of the apartment. "We're hitting the range before supper."

The door at the far end of the kitchen opened halfway, and a familiar face peeked around the edge. Her hair was a fluffy mess and her makeup was only halfway finished, but their visitor thought she looked beautiful. "Have we heard from Hige yet?" The sandy-haired man in question waved shyly from the couch and those bright blue eyes softened. "You feeling up for it, honey?"

Hige shrugged and scratched his head, his eyes drifting back to the hidden holster slung beneath the older man's coat. "Do we have time?" Toboe asked for him, twitching restively on the couch.

Quent raised an eyebrow at his daughter, offering her a silent answer to her unspoken repetition of her brother's question. "May as well let them do what they have to, Toboe."

The skinny redhead sighed in defeat. "At least we can make sure Pops follows range discipline."

"I haven't forgotten how to keep the rifle from going off when I don't want it to," Quent assured him, standing and retrieving his hat.

"I don't think that's what Toboe's worried about, Pops." Blue gave her boyfriend a wink and disappeared back into her room.

"Should I be afraid?" Hige asked the boy in an undertone.

"He's always been a little… overprotective," Toboe told him. "He warned my last girlfriend that if she dumped me he couldn't hold himself responsible for what might happen."

Hige glanced towards the elder man. Quent Yaiden appeared busy with putting away his cleaning tools, but like that loaded gun of his, the young intern did not doubt that the eldest Yaiden was capable of offering a threat just out of sight. "Well? What happened?"

The boy looked towards the floor. "I don't bring home girls anymore, and my boyfriend drops me off half a block from the apartment."

"That bad, eh?" The small youth nodded reluctantly. Hige reached into his pocket, fingering the most dangerous item that he carried. "Well, hopefully I've got nothing to worry about, since I'm not intending to break it off anytime soon."

"Good." Quent picked up a soft-sided case that rattled slightly as he lifted from the ground. Blue reemerged at the sound, dressed in something more suited for knocking around the city than going to fancy restaurants.

"Let's make this quick then," she said, lifting something out of a drawer in the kitchen. "Do you mind driving, Hige?"

"No problem," he replied. The car might be a little tight, but with Blue next to him, it wasn't a big deal. "Can you point me in the right direction?"

"Sure."

It only took three twists of the key and some muffled cursing on Hige's part to get the old sedan running. The range was technically within walking distance of the Yaidens' place, but far enough out of the way that their suburban-raised driver was thankful to not be hauling that rattling duffle for five and a half blocks. A part of him feared that it would explode. Blue and Quent seemed comfortable enough around it, at least. Toboe, on the other hand, kept adjusting his tie and insuring that the wine bottle was safely balanced between his feet while seated next to it.

"It's not going to bite you, runt," Blue teased her brother as Hige hunted for a parking space. "As long as nobody's pointing it at you, you don't need to be afraid of it."

"Easy for you to say." The redhead crossed his arms, pouting slightly.

"Mistakes happen." Their father reached over the bag to touch the boy's head as Hige pulled to a stop, then lifted the duffel. "We can't linger over all of 'em."

"So, should I be worried?" Hige asked the teenager in an undertone.

Toboe pulled fretfully at the silver bangles about his wrist before answering. "I hope not. Blue'll keep Pops from doing anything crazy, but those things are harder to fire than they look."

Hige smiled at him and tugged playfully at the redhead's tie. "Hey, we'll let them shoot and we'll add in the charm, and between us, we could practically be a super secret agent like in those spy films."

The youngster smiled at the notion, brushing away Hige's hand and scratching at the back of his head. "And with your job, you even get to play with all the noble-designed gizmos." Toboe grabbed the metaphor and ran with it. Her old man was a bit aloof, but Hige had no doubt that he'd be getting along just fine with Blue's little brother.

"Well let's see what you've got up your sleeves, Agent Hige," Blue teased, setting a pair of ear protectors in their hands. "You might want these if you're not used to the noise." Toboe was quick to pull his on, and Hige followed his example. Neither of the elder two Yaidens bothered, the young man noted.

Shooting a bright, still dot looked easy, compared to some of the things Blue and Quent Yaiden were known to aim at, but both of them fussed over Toboe for even hitting the same sheet of paper. One try of his own and Hige understood why. Even with Blue's hands steady about his, the pistol jumped, sending him stumbling back into her. His would-be teacher barely maintained her own balance, avoiding falling over only through a lucky step back into the table they had used to set up. "Okay, James Bond, I'm not," Hige admitted. "I don't know that I could do the whole bed-hopping thing, either," he added as he passed the gun to Blue.

"Good," she said, smiling. "You ready to go, Pops? It's getting late." She glanced at the clock as her brother began to fiddle with his bracelets.

Quent Yaiden sighted down the rifle; his hands surprisingly steady as he squeezed off one final round. "Suppose it is, at that," the bearishly built elder responded once he had assured himself as to the accuracy of his shot.

He hung back, lingering over the equipment and motioning for Hige to wait as Blue and Toboe headed for the car. "I don't worry too much about my girl, Wolfe." At Yaiden's tone, Hige mentally ran through the forbidden topic list Cher Lebowski had given him and began to wonder if this meeting hadn't been doomed from the start. "I'm not going to make any threats or try to drive you away. I don't tell you this because I'm out to make your life particularly easy. The way I see it, Blue is perfectly capable of carrying out whatever she feels like. Whatever that may be, I'll support her decision."

"Understood, sir." Quent Yaiden nodded and turned for the car.

All in all, the proposal dinner didn't go quite as smoothly as Hige would have liked, but once all their weaponry had been tabled, Blue was willing to accept him.


End file.
